


Music Lessons

by mithrel



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Blanket Permission, First Kiss, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-26
Updated: 2009-04-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie teaches the Doctor to play the bagpipes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Lessons

The TARDIS sat in the Vortex. The console room was empty, and there was no sign of anyone. A horrendous racket came from one section of the TARDIS. If the listener followed the noise, they would end up outside Jamie McCrimmon’s bedroom, where the frustrated Scot was trying to teach the Doctor to play the bagpipes.

He hadn’t taken the Doctor’s comment about wanting to learn seriously, but a few days ago the odd little man had reminded him of his promise. “Oh, aye,” Jamie had agreed. “But do ye have pipes o’ yer own? Be easier that way.”

The Doctor produced a set of bagpipes, smaller than Jamie’s own, which he’d managed to retrieve before he left and were now stored in a chest at the foot of his bed. “All right then.”

They’d gone into his room, and the lesson had begun. Ben, whose room was fairly near Jamie’s, had come in after only a few minutes. “What the hell’s that bloody racket?” he’d wanted to know.

The Doctor had grinned up at him. “Jamie’s teaching me to play the bagpipes!”

Ben had groaned. “Think I’ll see what Duchess is up to.”

He’d since moved into a different room, and Jamie honestly couldn’t blame him. He’d told the Doctor it took a lifetime to learn to play the pipes properly, but he hadn’t seemed deterred. “I’ve got time.”

Now, though, Jamie was beginning to think it was hopeless. The Doctor still hadn’t mastered even the basics, such as the proper way to hold the pipes. The chanter didn’t give him any trouble, but Jamie still wanted to scream whenever he attempted anything like even the simplest tunes.

“Nay, nay,” he told the Doctor for the twelfth time. “Ye hold it like _this_ ,” he adjusted the bag on the Doctor’s lap. “The drone goes over yer shoulder, like tha’.” He stood back, and surveyed the Doctor. “Now play.”

The Doctor blew into the pipe and produced a noise similar to a cat being put through a mangle. Jamie winced. “Ye’ve still no’ got it.”

The pipes were out of position again, and Jamie moved over to correct it.

He took the Doctor’s hands, and arranged them on the pipes, moving his fingers to the proper places, and adjusting the drones to hang over his shoulder. After a moment, he looked up to see the Doctor looking down at him with a strange intensity. For no reason he could fathom, he blushed and pulled back. “Aye, well, I think we’ll leave th’ lesson fer now.”

The Doctor nodded, picked up his pipes, and headed back to the console room, leaving a much-relieved piper in his wake.

@*@*@*@

Over the next few days, Jamie tried to avoid the Doctor. Every time he was near him, his stomach got fluttery, and if he actually made eye contact with the Doctor it felt like his knees were going to give. He didn’t understand it, and so he avoided him.

The Doctor seemed a bit puzzled, but willing enough to let him be. After a week of avoiding him, Polly cornered him on his way out of his room. “What’s up with you lately?”

“Eh?” He had a fair idea what she meant, but he didn’t want to discuss it with anyone until he’d figured it out. The Doctor would know, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t talk to him.

“You’ve been acting odd. You haven’t said more than two words together to the Doctor in a week.” She looked at him sympathetically. “I suppose this is all a bit much to take in. Do you regret coming with us?”

“No!” It came out more vehement than he had intended, and Polly looked slightly startled. “No, I like travelling wi' ye,” he added, slightly more quietly.

And he did. Despite the recent strangeness, and despite the fact that he didn’t really understand a tenth of the things he’d seen, he didn’t want to leave. “Got nowhere t’ go, anyway. I can’ very well go back to Scotland wi’ everyone gone, an’ I dinna wan’ t’ go t’ France.”

She smiled at him. “I suppose not. Well, we’re glad to have you, you know.”

He smiled back at her.

@*@*@*@

Nearly two weeks after the incident with the bagpipes, the Doctor came into his room again. “Jamie.”

He looked up from his bed, where he’d been sat playing his pipes, startled and a bit wary. “Doctor.”

“Has anything been–bothering you?”

“Botherin’ me? No.” It was a lie, and he was fairly sure the Doctor knew it.

“I know you’re a bit out of your depth here.”

“Aye.” _Although no' th’ way yer thinkin’._

“I’ll understand if you want to leave. I can drop you off anywhere you like.”

“Why does everyone think I wan’ t’ leave?” he complained. “I didna ever say tha’!”

“Well, of course, if you want to stay, that’s fine, I’m certainly not trying to force you to leave. I’d be glad of your company awhile longer.” The Doctor looked away as he said this last, and Jamie’s stomach flipped.

“But you’ve been acting out-of-sorts the past few weeks. You haven’t been yourself,” the Doctor continued.

Jamie coughed. “Aye, well,” he began, then stopped, since he had no idea what to say.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Jamie looked at the Doctor’s expression of concern, and suddenly wished he were somewhere else, anywhere else. The Doctor had come over to stand near his bed, and they were nearly eye to eye. He swallowed.

When the Doctor reached out to touch his cheek gently he flinched away. The Doctor immediately withdrew his hand and turned to go, but Jamie grabbed his arm, his pipes clattering to the floor. “No!”

“Hmm?” The Doctor was looking at him curiously.

“I…I don’ wan’ ye t’ leave.” That was nothing but the plain, simple truth, Jamie realised. He wanted the Doctor to stay, and…and what else he didn’t know.

The Doctor smiled softly. “All right.”

He sat down next to Jamie on the bed, with his hands folded in his lap. Jamie picked up his pipes and fiddled with them, unsure what to do.

“Doctor–" He turned, to see the other man gazing at him with the same expression he’d worn two weeks earlier. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

The Doctor’s hand came out again to stroke his cheek, and this time he didn’t flinch away. The other man moved to cup his chin, and kissed him softly.

This, Jamie suddenly realised, was what he’d been wanting for two weeks. It was wrong, it was filthy and unholy and he didn’t care.

The Doctor broke away from him, and looked carefully at his face. Whatever he saw there must have pleased him, because he smiled. “Well,” he said lightly. “I guess there’s no more reason to pretend I’m trying to learn the bagpipes.”

Jamie’s brow furrowed. “What?”

The Doctor looked at him mischievously. “Oh, come now, my lad, you don’t think I was that bad by accident?”

“Ye were fakin’!” Jamie suddenly realised. “Ye were fakin’ a’ along!”

The Doctor grinned at him. “I learned to play the bagpipes ages ago. Why do you think I had a set?”

Jamie gaped at him. “You…ye’re _evil!_ ”

The Doctor laughed softly. “That I am, Jamie. That I am.”


End file.
